


The Promise I Kept

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Awkward Castiel, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-24 00:37:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Revised summary*<br/>While Dean continues to search for his long lost baby brother, he meets with a man who knows where to find Sam. However, a certain someone happens to see the whole thing go down. His name is Castiel, and Dean eventually lets him come along and help. After a few days, he really starts to like him. However, Cas is keeping a huge secret from Dean, who will eventually find out along with all the other secrets he never knew his family was keeping. Deal making with demons, an ambush of vampires, and shapeshifter problems are just some of the things they will encounter on this trip.</p>
<p>Basically an AU in which John didn't want Sam and Dean to have the hunting lifestyle and puts them in foester care as children, only to get seperated...</p>
<p>
  <strong> Friday Updates </strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Deal

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired and based on a post on tumblr [here.](http://spnprompts.tumblr.com/post/58467824836/au-sam-and-dean-were-separated-when-they-were)
> 
> Unbeta'd, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

It wasn't that he was giving up, maybe more like taking a long-needed break. He made a promise to himself and more importantly Sam, but these past few weeks he's been loosing hope. Dean took to drinking again, drowning out his feelings with whiskey and scotch and any other alcohol he could get his hands on. Running low on cash, he only had enough for a couple nights in a hotel room and a tank of gas. He was tempted to take some of the money he'd gotten for the deal, but for Sam's sake, he abandoned the thought.  
As a teenager he always thought that no matter what happened, he would always go forward and keep trying to locate his younger brother. Pulling into the parking lot of a local bar, he thought that maybe it wouldn't hurt to give up, just a little. That way it might somehow encourage him to keep going.  
He parked and got out of his car, slamming the door shut and sulking his way into Vic's Tavern. The neon sign on the building flickered, casting a bright green glow on the dark asphalt below. Entering, he strided to a stool at the counter and took a seat.  
The bar was surprisingly packed, with drunks and bikers and much-too-obvious hookers all around. A bartender approached him and asked what he wanted, but Dean waved him off. He shrugged and limped off, leaving Dean alone with his thoughts.

"Hey there," he heard a voice say. Rolling his eyes, he turned his head to the side to see. It was a girl, and she wasn't too bad looking; she wore a skimpy red dress and black pumps. But Dean didn't want her around. She started to rub her finger down his arm seductively, making his hair stand on end.

"Not interested," he huffed, pulling his arm away.

"Aww, c'mon babe. I'm not too expensive," she cooed.

"Fuck off," he sneered.

The girl gave him a mean look, then sauntered off loudly, stomping her heels and swinging her hips in the hopes Dean would stare at her ass. He didn't.

"Uh," he said softly to the bartender. "On second thought, gimme some vodka."

The bartender nodded silently, grabbing a glass and placing it in front of Dean, pouring in the vodka. Dean lifted it to his lips and tipped it back without hesitation. Then he let out an exhausted sigh, burrying his head into his hands.  
He needed to keep searching, but it was getting harder. He recieved a phone call yesterday instructing him to meet a man here, because he claimed to have some information about where Sam could be find. So all he could do was wait and hope that giving the guy money for information was worth it.  
As he waited, he tried to think about some of the things he and Sam used to do together as kids, to get his mind off the bitter reality he had to live. He remembered teaching Sam how to skateboard, and that when he fell and skinned his knees he had to patch them up for him. He even recalled the conversation they had that day:

"I'm so stupid, I can't do anything right," Sam had told him, tears filling his disappointed eyes.

"No your not. You just gotta keep tryin'," Dean had explained, putting pink bandaids on Sam's knees.

"Hey, don't put those on me! Those are for girls!" 

"Sammy, those were the only kind they hand in the house. Just suck it up."

"I hate that house. I miss Dad. When is he gonna come pick us up?"

"Sammy..."

Dean suddenly realized that only a few weeks after that, a family took Sam away from him without warning, leaving Dean a wreck for years. When he finally turned 18 and no one adopted him, he got out of that foster house as fast as he could, living on his own and constantly moving, living nowhere and everywhere. He missed his baby brother...  
The bartender limped back over to Dean and handed him a tightly folded note. Dean blinked a few times, trying to get his attention back to reality. He unfolded the note and read it. It appeared to be from the mysterious man who called him the other day. The note read the following:

_Head outside behind the bar. I'll be waiting. Bring the cash, or no deal. Bring any kind of weapon and you die._

Dean sighed, crumpling the peice of paper into a tiny ball with his hand. He wasn't going to go into that situation without his gun.  
He reached into his jacket pocket and felt the small manila envelope with the money inside. It really set him back trying to get it; he had to rob a bank and threaten to kill everyone inside. But he was good at what he did, so he was sure he could get more to support himself after he finished this job.  
He scooted himself off the stool and layed a few singles on the counter to pay for his vodka. He thanked the bartender and calmy walked outside, making his way to the back.  
He passed varoius trash cans and finally stopped in the back by a dumpster, which was only dimly lit by the full moon in the late night sky.  
Out of the shadows came a hooded figure, and at his side were two large men, no doubt his back-up.  
The hooded figure extended his hand, demanding the money upfront. Dean quietly lifted the envelope out of his pocket, but held it between him and the figure.

"Just give it to me!" the figure snarled.

"First I want to know how you know where Sammy is."

"I'm an old family friend."

Dean shook his head. "Then why do I have to pay you? Why not just tell me?"

"Enought with this, kid."

"Tell me!"

"Don't even try to act tough with me, Dean."

Dean had enough, and quickly reached for the gun tucked in the waistband of his pants, raising it with his other hand and aiming it at the figuer's head, who raised his arms up sarcastically.

"Oh jeez, I'm so fucking scared I'm gonna piss my damn pants."

"Fine! Here," Dean grunted, tossing the envelope to the man. He lowered his gun slightly, but still had it raised just in case.  
The man opened it and took out the cash, flipping through it, smelling it. When he was content that the amount was what he desired, he shoved it into his pants pocket and crossed his arms.

"Alright, pretty boy," he began. "Lemme tell ya something. I don't like how you raised your gun at me, because I specifically told you not to bring weapons."

"So? I gave you the cash. Tell me and I'll be on my way."

Eh...," the man mused, yawning, "I'm tired. Maybe some other time? I don't like your attitude."

"Wha-?"

"Let's go, guys," he finished, beckoning with his hand at his guards to come with him.

Dean wasn't going to just stand there and think, so he raised his gun higher and shot one of the figure's men in the back of the head. He toppled over on his side, unmoving, next to a dark pool of blood. The other guard wasted no time and instinctively grabbed Dean by the neck, squeezing into his throat with his thumbs until he got down on his knees. Dean tried to pry the guard's hands off him, but it was no use. He gagged, trying to breath, but he was loosing air too fast.  
The hooded figure stepped over to Dean, laughing with joy.

"I always win!" he mused. 

_Not like this,_ Dean thought. _I'm not going out like this_.

"I'm. Gonna. Kill ya," Dean grunted.

Both the man and his guard chuckled, enjoying Dean's life escape right before their very eyes.  
But just then the sound of a trash can toppling over near the side of the building caused the guard to release his hands from Dean's throat. Dean collapsed to the ground, weezing.

"Who the hell are you? Come over here!" the hooded figure shouted.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't even see anything!" came a voice from behind a trash can that was still standing. 

"I said come here!" the figure continued, jogging over to grab whoever saw them. Light pouring out from a window lit up his face, showing gruesome scars on his cheeks and neck. He snatched the person by the arm and dragged him over to Dean, pushing him on the ground next to him.  
Dean coughed a few times and rolled over so he was lying on his back; he was way too weak to stand up.

"Who are you?" the guard asked quietly, but menacingly enough to make the man understand they weren't the messing around type.

"C-Castiel," he answered. 

Dean rolled his head over to look at Castiel, whose bright blue eyes were full of fear. 

"Look," he said in a hushed tone, "I'll pretend I didn't see anything, alright?"

"Shut up, man!" the hooded man snarled. ""I'm just gonna kill ya, nice and fast. So I don't need to worry."

As Castiel began to hyperventilate, the two villains weren't paying too much attention to Dean, who quickly reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife, throwing it into the guard's neck, slicing him right in the jugular.  
The guard made disgruntled noises as his blood splattered all over him and the ground. He fell over in pain, his body convulsing violently.

"Shit," the hooded man muttered, watching his last guard die next to him. "Well that looks rather unpleasant."

Dean, still on the ground, looked up at him. "Now I suggest you tell me where the hell Sammy is."

"He's working for a gang in Chicago, okay? Can't believe you killed my men just for that." 

Dean lifted his hand up to his neck, massaging it gently. "What do you mean he's working for a gang? Are you sure that's Sam as in my brother? He...he's not...that can't be him."

"Well if we're talking about the super tall guy that wears flannel, then yeah."

"I haven't seen him since he was six. I don't know what he wears or how tall he is!"

"Then shut the fuck up dude! Not my damn problem! I'm getting out of here before the cops come."

With that the man ran away, not look back at all. Once he disappeared into the woods nearby, everything was silent. Too silent. Dean tried to stand up, and when he did he looked down at the pathetic man named Castiel who was frozen in fear.

"Okay you can go now," Dean told him, snatching the knife he threw out of the guard's bloody neck, wipping it on the guard's shirt.

"You...you killed both of those gaurds?"

Dean inhaled deeply, letting out a sharp sigh. "Yeah. Dont call the cops or I'll hunt you down."

Castiel nodded, but he still didn't move.

"I'm sorry about your brother Sammy."

"Only I call him Sammy. And you'll forget you heard anything I said. Now go."

"W-what if that guy comes for me? He knows my name and what I look like!"

Dean tucked his gun and kinfe into his jacket and walked over to Castiel, offering a hand to help him up. When he took it, Dean lifted him up, then quickly took his hand back.

"Then maybe you shoulda thought twice before you went ease dropping," Dean answered, walking over to the front parking lot to his Impala. Castiel followed closely.

"I didn't mean to. I was, I don't know I was curious."

"Haven't you ever heard that curiosity killed the cat?" Dean inquired, unlocking his car and seating himself inside. He shut the door and rolled down his window. Castiel was standing there, not seeming to want to leave.

"Okay, leave," Dean told him. "Shoo, scat."

"Can I at least have a ride to a hotel?"

"How the hell did you even get here then?"

"I've been hitchhicking. It would mean a lot."

Dean chuckled slightly. "I bet. But, you dont even have a bag of clothes?"

"I have money for that."

"Whatever, get in," Dean said, beckoning him in with his thumb.

Castiel quickly got in, sitting in the passenger seat next to him. Then Dean backed up, pulled out, and floored it once he got onto the road.  
Not long after he did so, there were police sirens in the distance, most likely around the location of Vic's Tavern. Castiel was silent, but breathing heavily.

"Dude, calm down."

"Sorry. Its just that I saw you kill someone. And almost got myself killed."

"Yeah, oh well. You know, I could turn on you. I could kill you."

"Yes, however I have a feeling you won't."

"I just might if you don't shut up."


	2. Stayin' Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty. I know how I'm gonna do this:  
> I will post at leat one new chapter every week, no later than Sunday.

#### \---Dean's POV---

****

As I drive, I can't help but look over to my right at that Castiel guy. He's been quiet for a while, but that's because I told him that if he talked to me I would blow his brains out. I felt bad about it, but this wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. I was supposed to get the information, and leave. Killing those two guards and having to haul a pathetic hitchhiker who was in the wrong place at the wrong time only slowed me down.  
We're in a city somewhere in central California; way too far than I'd like to be from Chicago. I'm not even sure if going to Chicago is the right thing to do, since working for a gang doesn't sound anything like Sam. Then again, he was taken away from me when he was six. People change... I blink my eyes shut a few times, trying to get rid of the thought.  
I've been driving for about two hours, with Castiel being asleep for the first half of the trip. While he was sleeping, I spotted a decent hotel about a mile up the road, but for some reason I didn't want to wake him. They guy's had a tough night, seeing me kill a man and all. I'm still surprised by the fact he's trusting me to drive him; I'm a muderer and a theif, but I guess he knows it's for a good reason, and it is.  
Now that he's awake again, I suppose some small talk wouldn't hurt.

"How are you," I ask softly, to which he just shrugs.

"Better."

"I'm, uh. I'm Dean."

"Yes."

I cough, shifting my position in my seat. I think about how he claims to have a lot of money, but has no bag with any of his belongings in it. He just walks around, getting rides from random strangers whenever he gets the chance. Maybe it's just me, but that doesn't sound like the kind of thing an average Joe would do.

"Why are you running?" I question at last.

"Excuse me?"

"You know what I'm talking about. What you running from?"

Castiel lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his tired eyes. "My life. I really don't want to talk about it."

"Whatever," I mutter, glancing at my wrist watch. It was a quarter past midnight. 

"I would like to help you, though."

I laugh at that, and shake my head. "This is family business. Besides, I kill people for a living. You wouldn't last a day."

"Really, I want to help."

"How?"

"Any way I can."

I scratch my head. A pro to having him around was that he has money, which I need. The cons were that he was akward and weak and a chump. But it was sorta nice having someone around to talk to and not have to kill eventually. Though, at this rate, he might just get killed when one of my many unsolved conflicts comes and gets me on this road trip. 

"Ah, I guess you can stick around for a bit," I decide, even though I may very well regret it later on.

I keep driving, not stopping for anything. Two more hours pass, then three, then before I really notice, it's seven in the morning in Nevada.  
The bright, early morning sun casts its light on the hood of the car, forcing me to shield my face with the back of my hand. There isn't much to see on this dusty desert road we're on, maybe a couple of tumbleweeds here and there. I dart my blood-shot eyes to the gas meter; there'd better be a gas station up ahead or we're gonna be stuck in the boiling waste-land. A bead of sweat rolls down the side of my face, and I have to squint, but I'm pretty sure I see the outline of a small town a few miles ahead.

Castiel stretches his arms out and heaves a deep yawn, making me yawn myself. He sits up, stretching his legs too, and looks over at me. I don't look back.

"Are we going to stop to eat somewhere?" 

"I guess," I answer, tentatively touching my throat with the tips of my fingers; it was still bruised up.

Once in town, I pull up to a small local diner and enter, Castiel following close behind. A waitress seats us at a small, red-cushioned booth tucked into the back corner and hands us two menues. She leaves with a polite smile.  
As I thumb through their specials, I glance up at Castiel, whose chin is resting in his hand. He's staring blankly out the window at the hot wind blowing desert sand around.  
It's a freaking waste land out there, so something is obviously wrong with him.  
I decide that I should probably leave him be. I don't care about his problems, I have enough of my own to take care of.  
The waitress soon comes back and inquires what we would like to eatm I tell her that I'll have the eggs and ham. When she asks Castiel, he shakes his head and hands her his menu. She nods and hurries off with my order.

I lay my hands down flat on the table in front of me, spreading my fingers out. _Don't ask him,_ I think. _I don't give a shit about this guy. He's not my concern._

"Why didn't you order anything?" I spit out a little too quickly. I had to proove to myself that I wasn't too heartless.

"Huh? Oh," he replies, still a bit zoned out from staring out of the window. "I'm not as hungry as I thought."

"You're gonne get hungry," I state, raising a brow.

To this he just shrugs and looks down at my hands, particularly eyeing my left one.

"Your not married.." he points out blantaly. 

"Yeah."

"Why not?"

"I can't love anyone... I mean, you see what I do. They'd be horrified." I let out a bitter chuckle, retracting my hands and placing them on my thighs. "Besides, no one could love a guy like me," I mutter angrily, glaring at him.  
However, something confuses me about his eyes. They're bold and striking, but at the same time soft and gentle. All at once I develope this urge to tell him everything, all my feelings, hopes, and regrets. I want to tell him about all those times I've killed just becuase I wanted to, and how damn exhausted I am trying to keep a pinky promise I made with an innocent little kid, not knowing I would actually have to do it.  
Castiel gives me a small, reassuring smile. I gulp.  
Just when I feel I can't take the akwardness any longer, our waitress returns and places my breakfast before me. She promptly scurries off, and I begin to devour my food. As I scark down the eggs, barely chewing them, I sense Castiel staring at me. Yeah, I'm a sloppy eater, but I haven't had a real meal and days. When I'm done, I pause before I can make it to the ham.

"You want the rest?" I offer, slidding the plate over to him.

I'm surprised as he takes it without question, finishing every last piece off the plate faster than I did.

"Told you," I laugh, and he smiles and starts to laughs too. 

I like his smile; it's really warm and inviting. And his laugh isn't as annoying as I thought it'd be. Not that I thought about his laugh or anything, I mean who even does that.  
Okay yeah, I though about it. It was a long drive, alright?  
As we wait for the waitress to return with the bill, Castiel tenses up, looking behind me. I turn around casually, but have my hand in my pocket clutching my gun.  
I don't see anyone, so I turn back around.

"What the hell are you lookin' at?"

"Him," he says, pointing to a man in a black suit sitting on a stool over at the counter. His hair is neat and tidy, his shoes are shiney, and he's just overall out of place. He's eating something, but I'm sure he senses me looking at him. He straightens his back and turns his head, glaring me down.  
I turn around quickly, dig some cash out of my pocket and set it on the table.  
Castiel gives me a questioning look.

"We need to go now," I say.

"He coming over here."

"What?"

"He's coming over-"

"Alright I know I heard you. Just, don't say anything stupid."

"I'm not as-"

"Not as what? Stop being so-"

"Hello boys," a crisp voice comes from behind me. "Mind if I take a seat?"

"Actually-" I begin, but he sits himself next to Castiel anyway. Castiel scoots next to the window more. I know he's uncomfortable.

"Hey, Crowley," I say, voice wavering a little. "Yknow what? We were just leaving."

"No, you weren't," he smiles. "I do believe you and I need to have a little chat." He pauses a moment, taking a gander at Castiel. "And who might you be?"

"Nobody..." he answers quietly.

"Exactly," I add, trying to get Crowley's attention directed toward me again. "I'm too tied down right now to get you what you need. Gimme a month."

Crowley rolls his eyes. "Too late for one more month. Times up."

"No!" I shout. A few of the people in the diner stare at me, but I don't care. "No," I say in a lower tone. "One more month, please."

Crowley sits there, smiling, enjoying my insistent plea for another thirty days. He knows why I need my life extended, but he's a demon. He could care less.  
I don't know a great deal about demons, only from what Dad told me. Sammy never knew, but I did. 

"Alright," he says at last. "One more measly month it is. But only because I like where this is headed," he muses.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Good day, Dean Winchester. Can't wait for our little trip to the Gates."

Crowley stands up, gives Castiel a once-over, but stops suddenly.

"You're..."

Castiel squints at Crowley. "Yes."

Crowley's smile turns into an enormous grin. "Marvelous," he says, walking away. "This keeps getting better and better." 

I wait until I see him exit out the door, then give Castiel a wierd look. 

"What the hell was that about?"

"I...don't know."

"Well, whatever. We need to be headin' out anyway. I'm not waiting for the waitress."

"Right."

I slide myself out of the booth and when I stand on my feet, I can feel how shaky I am in the knees. I almost died again today, but I got enough time for this. For Sam.


	3. I'm No Fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really quick chapter I came up with while in chemistry. I'm gonna have a lot of homework, so I had to get this one published. Next one should be Saturday. Enjoy.

#### \---Cas' POV---

That was bad.  
I watch Dean as he briskly walks in front me, making grumbling noises under his breath. His head is low, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. I wince. Maybe I shouldn't have pointed Cowley out. Either way, he most likey would have come over without me spotting him. In fact, he most certainly noticed me beforehand; I find it highly unlikely for a demon such as himself to not feel the presence of an angel. Perhaps that's what attracted him to Dean. I feel as though I may be responsible for what happened. I want to help Dean, but I made it more difficult for him.

"I'm sorry," I pronounce.

"Just don't," he tells me, getting back into the Impala. He accidentally bumps his head on the hood as he does so, and curses profusely.

I get in without another word and he resumes the trip. A few audible sighs eminate from him every once in a while, making me loose my patients a bit. If only he knew what I am. Im getting annoyed at the fact that I have to keep this 'naive fool' act going. When Crowley does come for him, I can pull him out. I have to protect him anyway I can, even if my family does not approve. I've been watching over them for too long now, especially Dean. I don't know what it is about him that makes me want to be by him every step of the way, through every twist and turn and difficult time. But that is what I must do.  
As the day progresses, the blistering sun rises higher and higher in the dry, cloudless sky. I look up at it, wondering what they are doing right now.

"A month isn't a long time," I muse, removing my thoughts and placing my vision on the winding road in front of us.

I see Dean pause a second, swallowing hard. I can feel him thinking.

"It was the best I could do. He wouldn't have given me more than that."

He goes silent, not speaking another word. Instead, he drowns everything out by turning the radio up. It's extreamly irritating, all those annoying sounds flowing through the car, making my seat vibrate and hurting my ears to much extent. But I don't say anything. I understand that this is how Dean copes, and I'll respect it.

* * *

 

_Welcome to Utah_ the sign reads as it passes the passenger side window in a brown blur. The sky has darkened now to a purple hue, the sun hiden behind the horizen. It's about eight in the evening, so I am more than happy that Dean decides to stop at a hotel. I won't be able to stand his excessive sighing much longer.  
He spots a hotel and pulls into it, letting me out by the entrance so I don't have to walk. I'm puzzled as to why he did that, because I am more than sure he doesn't like me very well. Either way I walk inside and ask for a room as I wait for him to return.

"Certainly," the receptionist responds to my request, typing into the computer in front of her. "The only room available at the moment is a one-bedroom suite. Is that okay?"

"There are no others?"

"Nope, sorry."

"Alright..."

Dean will not be too overjoyed about this. He comes in just then, carrying a large black duffle bag in his left hand. I raise an eyebrow.

"Here's your room key, sir," the receptionist continues, sliding a card toward me on the counter. I take it, but keep my eyes on Dean.

"What is in there?" I ask.

"Stuff," is all he says. "Where's the room?"

I look down at the card. "It says 323."

He walks over to the elevator in the hallway adjacent to the lobby and hits the button.  
We eventually make it to the room and, not to my surprise, he gets angry as he steps inside.

"There's not even a freaking spare," he grumbles, referring to the only bed inside.

"This is the only one they had. I can sleep on the floor." I don't know how I could sleep when I didn't know how.

"Yeah you will. This is your fault."

He plops the duffle bag down near the window and walks over to the bed. He sits on the edge og it and begins to pull his shoes off. I stand by the door, unmoving.

"Well?" Dean asks. "Get some blankets and lay them on the floor or something."

"Oh... is that how that's done?"

"You okay? You've been acting weird ever since the diner."

"Of course I'm not okay. I have no family to go to, and I'm traveling with a murderer," I state bluntly. I try to sound as much as the naive fool he thinks me to be.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He believes it.

"Whatever, dude."

He unbuttons his jeans and lets them fall down to his ankles. He then kicks them off, throwing them to the side.  
I stare at him.  
He is only in his dark boxers and white shirt, so I am assuming that's how they sleep.  
Dean gives me a mean look, so I avert my eyes to the floor as he jumps into the bed and throws the covers over his body. I glance up, catching the sight of him snuggling into the pillows with a smile.  
He peeks open one eye and sees me staring at me again, and this time he says something.

"You really gotta stop givin me those hungry eyes," he laughs.

"I...wasn't aware eyes could become hungry?"

Dean gives me another look, but this one is indescribable.

"Oo-kay then."

With that he turns off the lamp next to him, and the room goes dark. I'm still standing by the door, fully clothed and staring at Dean.  
He abruptly fishes his arm out of the sheets and extends it to the lamp again, turning it back on with a click.

"Okay, seriuosly? Stop. Stop staring at me!"

"Alright."

"Really. Go sleep by the window," he instructs.

I swiftly move over to the window, scoot the duffle bag out of my way, and sit down. I look to him for conformation, and he nods. "Night," he says, shutting the lamp off one last time.

* * *

 

Hours pass, and I notice that Dean has finally stopped snoring. Watching his chest inflate and then deflate with every breath he makes gets me thinking about what it would be like as a human. I mean, I did eat earlier, but that was only to convince Dean I am who I say I am. I think the whole concept of eating is really unecessary, but if that's what Dean does, as well as sleep, then I should do it.

Just then I watch as Dean rolls over in bed to where his head is facing me. He's awake.

"Are you sleeping?" he whispers. My back is flat against the wall, and I'm hugging my legs to my chest.

"No. I have trouble sleeping."

"Me too," he replies in a low, gruff tone.

Then there's about a few minutes of silence until he speaks again:

"I hate my life," he continues, bringing his hands up to his face and hiding behind them.

I frown and give him a perplexed look, squinting.

"Why are you telling me this?" I don't mind; I like hearing him speak. But he's upset. I'm not sure how to react to that emotion.

"I don't know, man. I just... I feel like I can tell you anything," he murmurs.

"Its fine," I say. "I'm not too fond of my life as well."

"Why not."

"I was expelled."

"What?"

"What I mean is...my family. They don't want me with them, I suppose."

"Tough," he says, propping his head up with his hand, leaning on his elbow for support. His hair is ruffled and sticking every which way, and I smile a bit. When he smiles back, I quickly look away.

"So...I understand somehwat of what you're going through," I mutter.

"Yknow, its kind funny," he begins. "My mom...When I was little, when she tucked me into bed, she use to say that angels were watching over me." I look back up at him, and what I see in his eyes is something I haven't seen before. Some kind of deep, extreme sadness. "And now, I mean, I don't think they ever did."

I shake my head. That hit me hard, what he said. I feel unusually pained inside. I don't like this sensation.

"Angels are out there," I explain softly, "everywhere. And there's one looking out for you right now."

"Sure. And I guess he's protecting me, right? Bullshit."

"Dean..."

He sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry. Sorry. Im difficult to deal with."

"Yes, you are. Extreamly."

To this he chuckles a little, and I smile.

"You're alright, Cas."

"Cas?"

"Oh. You don't like that?"

"No. Its fine," I say, thinking the name over in my head.

"Er...you don't have to sleep on the floor, if you don't want to. It looks uncomfortable."

"But you told me-"

"Screw what I said. You can sleep here," he says, stumbling out of the sheets and walking over to me. I stand up, and lay myself in the bed, knowing Dean won't let me stay where I was. When I throw the covers over myself, he lays down flat on the floor, using his duffle bag as a pillow.

 

"See ya in the morning, Cas," he muses softly.

"Good night, Dean."


	4. Run-in With Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I barely checked through my mistakes, so it might be a bit bad, I was rushing to get it done.  
> Next chapter will be tomorrow.  
> I also changed the summary because I freaking hated the first one, hopefully it sounds as good now as I think the story is.  
> Enjoy.

#### \---Dean's POV---

We left the hotel right away. When I woke up, my back was so freakin painful, it was killing me. I was gonna blame it on Cas, but it was me that made him sleep on the bed. It's still bothering me that I feel the urge to spill my guts out to him, telling him stuff I thought I could never say to anyone. Last night, when I told him about my mom... I never talk about my mom with anyone. No one. No one except Bobby of course.  
Bobby was like a father to me, still is. Last time I saw him was ten years ago; I was out on my own for a few years, but I didn't really make it too far, so I came to him. We were talking about my dad, who went on another one of his hunting trips and never came back..

"Knowing him, though," Bobby had said, "I don't think it's true."

"But he hunts...demonic things." I stated.

"Still, it's not like him. Actually, I think its about time you start training."

"What are you talking about."

"Dean, I can't alway be there for you."

"Damn straight. You weren't there for me and Sam when we were stuck in that home."

"I couldn't Dean, you know that. I-I just couldn't."

"Well why the hell not? That was the time when we fucking needed you! I spent most of it alone, without him. You should have been there even before Dad put us in that prison."

"Do you understand how your mother died, Dean?"

"Don't bring her into this."

"Really, Dean. Do you know?"

"...in a fire," I muttered, not looking him in the eyes.

"A demon set her on fire. Pined her right on the ceilin' an-"

"I get it, that's enough," I demanded. I remember I was close to crying then, but I kept it in.

"That should be reason enough. Now let's go."

It wasn't the best way to end a conversation, and I wish I would have known that that was the last day I would ever see him. It was a surprise to me, of course, when he texted me late last night.  
I left the room for a few minutes to call him, and when he picked up, his same old voice hit me with relief knowing he's still out there.

"How've you been, boy?" he asked in his usual way, and I held back my grin.

"Same, Bobby," I answered. "Man, it's good to hear you. What you been up to?"

"Nothing lately. I felt bad that I never even bothered to call you."

"You know that's fine. You text me every once in a while, making sure I'm still alive. But you stopped doing that..."

"I know." There was a pause. "Did you...you didn't find him yet. Did you."

I shook my head, and I think that solemn silence answered his question. "No. But I will. I gotta lead."

"Where to?"

"Er, Chicago. But it doesn't matter, a lead's a lead."

"You ain't workin with anyone, right?"

"Course not, Bobby. You know me."

"Yeah, I know you all right."

I started chewing on my lower lip furiously. I understood bringing Cas along wasn't the brightest idea, but oh well. I feel like he's becoming a really good friend, I can't let him go.

"Yeah," was all I said in return.

"Where are you now?"

"Eastern Utah."

"Well, stay away from...Well, you know, okay? You carryin' that stuff with you?"

"It's constantly with me. And in the trunk. I know what to do, Bobby. I learned from the best."

"Right," he chuckled, but it sounded bitter. "Be careful out there."

"You too."

He hung up, and that was it. I had these weird mixed feelings, and to be honest I still have them.

"Are you alright?"

I blink my eyes shut, then open them again. I forgot that I'm driving. Guess I zoned out while staring at the endless, mesmerizing road ahead.  
I look over to Cas for a moment, his mouth tiltled to the side in a thin frown, his eyebrows raised and eyes trained on me.

"Yeah, sure. Just..." I say. "Just got lost in my thoughts."

"I suppose I should tell you what's been bothering me."

"Go ahead," I reply, probably sounding a bit too anxouis to hear what he has to say.

"That black Cadillac has been following us for the past two hours."

"What?"

I lift my gaze to the rearview mirror, and sure enough there it is. I don't know how I didn't notice that earlier.

"Well, maybe it's nothing. If it was, then they would have tried stopping us by now."

I glance back at the rearview mirror, but now the car is gone. I seriously shouldn't have said what I did. I look at either side of the road, and it was nowhere in sight. A huge black Cadillac can't just disappear into thin air.

"There," Cas says, pointing to the car that somehow sped up in front of us. They park the car sideways to block both lanes, and now they're getting out, one by one. I slow to a stop about five hindred yards away from the two men and a woman standing there, waiting.  
I cut the engin off.

"Look at they're eyes," I say in a low voice.

The men and woman are dressed like they belong to the government; with black suits and sleek hair, but they're eyes were different. They're eyes are like merciless black abysses.

"Demons," Cas mutters.

I practically snap my neck as I turn my head to look at him.

"How the hell do you know about demons?" I demand.

"Dean, I-"

"You're one of them aren't you? You son of a bitch!" I snap.

"No, I'm not," he answers, and I can see he's holding back his temper, hands balled up into fists and nostrils flaring.

I extend my arm to the back seat and reach for my black duffel bag stuffed with all the weapons Bobby told me to always have with me. I fumble through it and take out holy water, a knife, and the Colt.

"How did you-" he begins, looking at the Colt.

I hold it up to his head, but he doesn't move, not even flinching.

"It's useless on me," he states matter-of-factly.

"Get out," I tell him, and he does, opening the door and standing out in the hot air, hands raised.

I get out as well, catiuosly though, and change my target from Castiel to the three demons ahead of me. A thousand thoughts are running around through my mind right now, and I really have to concentrate to remember what Bobby had taught me.

"Thanks for blocking the road!" I shout to them, squinting in the bright afternoon sun.

"We have been waiting for this moment," the middle demon begins. "Put the Colt down."

"That's not gonna happen."

"Dean Winchester, your father is not dead," the demon, the only one in a woman vessel, tells me.

"Tell him I'll see him in hell. I don't give a shit."

"Dean," I hear Castiel say. For some reason hearing him brings some tears into my eyes, because he sounds like he still cares. But I don't know what he is, so I don't know how to take that.

"Shut up!" I yell, pointing the gun to him again until the other demon starts to speak, so I train it back on them.

"No more games," the last demon speaks.

Just then, as if they all made a silent agreement while I was focused on Castiel, they run up to me with lightning speed and tackle me to the ground.  
Well, that's what you get when you dont realize whats going on and you're thinking about everything but what you need to be doing.  
I stuggle to get out of they're grip, but its no use; I was caught off gaurd. I feel like such a fucking idiot, letting these demons kick my ass. I should've shot them while I had the chance. The Colt landed somehwere near Castiel, who's still standing there with his hands raised.  
The demon in the woman vessel grabs me by the jaw and starts to smash my head into the asphalt repeatedly. After about the fourth or fifth hit I swear I hear something crack. She stops and lets my head fall back into my blood and fragments of hair and skin.  
They all stand back up, straightening they're suites and wippng any accumulated dirt and dust off. The demon who smashed my skull into pieces then placed her heel into my chest and, slowly digging it in, she focuses her gaze upon Castiel.

"Cast from heaven, huh?" she giggles. "Lost your precious powers, no doubt. Should have thought twice before you decided to help this filthy human," she spits.

I wince as she digs her heel in deeper, and I start to have a violent coughing fit. I hack up dark red blood, which trickles down the sides of my mouth. It leaves that coppery taste on my tounge.

"Watch it," Castiel snarls, letting his hands fall to his sides.  
I'm not exactly paying too much attention; I keep nodding on and off, trying to fight my concusion, but the glances I take to Castiel astonish me. His eyes are no longer bright and welcoming; they are now like two stromy seas, with pwoerful waves crashing against each other violently. I never thought he was capable of looking so... fierce.

The last sight I see before I pass out is Castiel advancing toward the demons with some kind of dagger. Then I shut my eyes, not sure whether I would wake up again or not.

* * *

When I open my eyes, I bolt upright.  
I'm in a motel room; I can tell because it's like the shitty one I lived in once. The lights are dimmed, and I'm on one of the two beds inside.  
That's when the wicked headache hits me like a truck right in my temple.  
As I gently place my hand to my head, I see Castiel sitting on the bed next to me, watching me. I sigh.

"I....did I....I don't remember really...," I slowly pronounce.

I did recollect some. Castiel is not who he says he is, and then some demons in a car, then nothing.

"I killed them," he says in a neutral tone of voice. "You're safe now. Here." He hands me a blue ice pack, and I place it on my forehead. "No no, you should put it on the back of your head."

"Why?"

I feel with my hand that a huge patch on the back has been patched with gauze, and it's hot to the touch. I didn't even realize it. Anyway, I place the ice pack where he instructed.

"I stopped and got you some medicine, so you will be a little..." he starts.

"Loopy?" I suggest. He nods.

We're silent for a bit. Who is Castiel? I don't think he's a demon. Shit, if he is, then I would have to kill him. I...I don't want to.

"Cas," I continue. I was wary saying Cas, because I don't quite trust him right now. "Who-I mean what are you."

I watch him carefully as he looks me right in the eyes. He doesn't move fore a long time, then finally:

"I am an angel of the Lord."


	5. So Many Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I can't stand dragging out their relationship much longer. I seriuosly think I'm gonna write some smut in one of the next few chapters.  
> Anyway, you'll see some touching in this chapter.  
> Enjoy.

#### \---Cas' POV---

Dean has finally woken from his nap. As he stirs in bed, he tentatively places the tips of his finges to the back of his head, then to the wound square on his chest. He sighs and ever so slowly rolls over in the bed, lifting the coarse sheet off him slightly. He struggles with lifting himself up, but I don't move to help him; I believe I've done enough damage for a while.  
He finally gets himself seated upright, his back against the bedpost. He reaches for one of the pillows and places it behind his head to rest on. Then, he turns his neck slightly toward me, piercing eyes trained on mine.

"Where's the Impala," he asks in a low and groggy tone.

Out of all the things he could have said, and that was it.

"Outside. How are you feeling?"

"Like a million bucks," he answers, not even bothering to cover the sarcasm. "How long have I been out."

"About three days," I state.

"W-what?!"

"Yes, just a nap."

"Yeah well that sure as hell ain't the definition of 'nap'."

"Sorry..."

"Whatever," he mutters, turning his head away and staring at the ceiling above. "So....you're an angel?"

He sounded very unamused by this, his voice bitter and weak. I didn't want him to find out the way he did. I'm still not sure how I am going to explain everything to him. Then again, I don't have to tell him everything.

"That's correct."

"Why, though? Why not my brother, he needs and angel or whatever more than I do. Seriuosly."

That is a good question. Why him? Other than the fact that he is a Winchester, there's nothing about him that any angel would be willing to risk their place in heaven for. Sam on the other hand, has demon blood. Hes different. But I'm not going to tell Dean that.

"I've been watching you for some time now. I didn't like seeing you struggle. I had to help, because I really care about you and I want you to be safe."

He nods, taking in the new information. "I still don't get it though. Why do you care so much about me?"

"I don't know." And that was true; I really don't.

"You have powers?"

"Yes and no. Since I've been cut from heaven, I have limited abilities."

"Ah..."

"I'm sorry. I am."

He turns to look at me again. He has been very difficult at times, however this is one of those times he's reserving himself, probably for the sake of both of us.

"I've never met anyone that cares about me that much. Really. And I just don't understand how you can stand me," he says.

"It's my job."

He shakes his head this time, and smiles a crooked smile.

"What the hell, Cas. You coulda told me before. Its still hard to...believe, but you should have told me before I almost shot you in the face."

"I know..."

He is weak and shaking a little; the medicine wore off about a day ago.  
If only I had pulled the demons off him. I could have prevented this, but instead I chose to stand by and watch. If I knew how much of my powers I had left, Dean wouldn't be...hurt. At least I had the knife with me.

"I don't feel so good," he whispers, stuggling to keep his eyelids from collapsing.

"Would you like more pills?" I offer.

"N-no," he rasps. "I just...need some...r-rest."

"Alright," I reply soothingly, but firmly. "I'll step out and check back on you later."

"Don't."

"Huh?"

"Don't leave," he mutters.

I nod, and keep myself seated on the bed across from him. It takes him a while to fall back asleep, but after an hour he finally shuts his eyes and nods off. He told me to stay with him, but I step out anyway, making sure to lock the door behind me. I slowly walk through the outside halls of the stale motel, passing many rooms. I hear some heated moans from a few of them, and I'm not sure how to place them. This is not a very good place to keep Dean.

"And how goes your idiotic human boy?" I hear Crowley say from behind me. I stop walking and turn around. Standing next to him is Balthazar, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He's wearing a stupid grin, but it's small.

"Not good," I answer gravely. "And don't call him that."

"Yes, c'mon now Crowley," Balthazar interjects, jokingly punching him in the arm, who promptly rolls his eyes. "Castiel is in enough trouble as it is. I'm sure he doesn't want to discuss how he stood there and watched his love get pummled to death." He adds a snicker at the end of his statement, making me want to smite him right there.

"Enough," I say.

"Right, 'course," Crowley continues. "Times running out, as you should very well realize. Just came to see you."

"I'll pull him out."

"Oh no you won't. Don't you remember our convorsation? If he doesn't-"

"I fully understand the agreement we made, and the consequences."

"We'll be watching."

"Eh," Balthazar mused. "When bored I suppose I will. Im busy busy busy in heaven."

"Balthazar," Crowley scolds, but Balthazar just waves him off.

"Relax," he laughes.

"Now if you'll excuse me..." I say.

"Next meeting in a month?" Crowley suggests. 

"Sounds fine," I conclude, passing them without another word. 

* * *

Seven more days pass, and Dean is now finally well enough to walk and do things again. I dont think so, but he's more determined than ever to get to Chicago now.  
Everday I have gone to the store across the street and brought him food; today I brought him lasagna and cherry pie, which he's currently stuffing his mouth with. In my mind, I keep seeing the delighted grin on his face when he saw me with the pie in my hands, and it makes me smile to myself.  
He finishes the food quickly, wipping his lips on his sleeve. He stands up from where he was seated on the bed and stretches his arms out above him. I can see the gauzy patch on his head, which is like a brown now from the dry, caked blood. 

"Good?" I ask him, referring to the dinner I got.

"Awesome, Cas," he grins.

"You should change the guaze on your head."

"Huh?" he says, touching the gauze. "Oh, yeah. And on my chest."

I grab the roll of gauze from the nightstand next to me, and the antibacterial cream. I hand it to him, and he goes over to the bathroom to redress his head wound. However, he soon comes back, shirt off, revealing the puncture on his chest.  
It has a purple color on the edges; looks like its bruised. The puncture itself is a gross red, with almost-yellow tint to it in some areas. It doesn't look good at all, but it is getting better.

"This hurts worse than my head," he explains, putting the gauze and cream back into my hand. "I need help."

I gulp. I don't think I can do that.

"I do think I can do this," I say, repeating my thoughts."I might hurt you."

"As long as you don't freakin jab your finger into it, I don't see a problem here."

"Do it yourself then."

"I told you it hurts. If I do it, I won't finish."

I sigh. He wants me to help, so I will.

"Alright, sit down," I instruct. 

He does on the bed, and I sit myself next to him, unrolling the gauze slowly. I rip a good piece off and set it down next to me. I then squeeze the antibacterial cream on the tip of my finger, but stop in my tracks.

"Well, go on," Dean demands. 

"Ehh..."

I gently dab his wound, making sure to get the edges as well. As I do this, his muscles flex a little from the coldness. I grab the gauze and stick it on him, standing up as fast I can.

"There, done."

He stands up as well and reaches for his Metallica shirt that was crumpled up in a ball on the floor, putting it on carfully.

"That wasn't so bad," he breathes. 

I'm not sure if he was talking about the pain or how uncomfortable I was. Either way would work.

"Yes. Your welcome."

"Uh huh."

Dean then picks up the remote for the tv and, turning it on, falls back into his bed and flips through the channels.  
He lands on one with doctors talking in a hospital, treating different patients and such. It doesn't look very eventful.  
I turn the light off in the room, letting the tv screen illuminate the walls with a light blue glow. I lay back in my own bed, fully clothed, and shut my eyes. Trying to sleep is useless, but I do it anyway. Every once in a while I'll hear Dean mutter "Doctor Sexy, she's no good for you man," which puzzles me immensely, but nevertheless I dont think too much of it. "Cas?" I hear Dean say.

"Yes Dean?"

"I'm sorry I lashed out on you."

"I already forgot about it, Dean. Its okay."

"Do you still wanna come with me? I mean, its fine if you don't want to. I'll understand.."

I think about the arguement and eventual agreement I made with Crowley. I'm instantly regretting it.

"Of course I do."

"And, one more thing..." he continues, looking at me.

"Yes?"

"No more secrets alright?"

I nod my head, but that's impossible to guarantee. He doesn't even know what his father has done, or his brother, or my bet with Crowley.  
If he doesn't make it through this trip, the consequences will be absolutly catastrophic.  
With that, he shuts the tv off, and everything goes black.


	6. We All Go To Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for this is a little longer than usual.  
> I will treat you with smutty smut in the next one to make up for it.  
> Enjoy.

#### \---Dean's POV---

I would be lying if I said that I didn't like it when Cas was tending to my chest wound.  
Sounds wrong, I know, but there's this really awesome feeling you get when someone who cares about you more than anything helps you do stuff like that. He even got me pie everyday for dessert. I mean, he knows exactly how to make me feel a billion times better. I like him a lot, and I'm sure as hell not gonna say anything to him about it. I've said thanks a couple times already, so hopefully that's enough.

Back when I was in foster care, I used to hang out with this chick. She had black hair and brown eyes, with really cute freckles on her chin. I can't remember her name, but she was a total babe. Long story short, she told me all these things about how she cared about me and would never leave me, that we should run away and never come back. I was fifteen, and Sammy had been gone for five years, so I told her I'd think about it. But, knowing I wouldn't go with her because I had a promise to keep, I convinced her to have sex with me in the upstairs closet. And damn was that good.  
Er, anyway, that was the closest I have ever gotten to having someone that really cared about me, other than maybe Bobby, but I dunno he's like part of the family. Its different when its a girl, and way different when its Cas.  
Cas practically gives his care to me, and I don't even have to ask. On top of that, he doesn't overdo it at all. To be honest, its sorta nerve wrecking to have him around. I feel like if I mess even one thing up, he'll be out of my life for good. I never ever want that to happen.

When I thought I was well enough to drive, I packed up my things, but left my Deep Purple t-shirt and an old pair of jeans out for him to wear.

"I'm fine wearing the clothes I currently have," he told me, brushing off his trench coat and messing with his tie.

"You smell like you crawled into a hole and died," I replied jokingly. "Cmon, put them on."

He clutched my clothes in his left hand and went over to the bathroom to change. However, he didn't close the door, and I caught a glimpes of his bare back. I was sort of expecting wings, but then again if he had them I would have probably seen them.  
When he returned, I smiled.

"Much better," I said with a big goofy grin.

"I feel weird."

"Ah, you'll get used to it," I concluded, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

We are now somewhere in Colorado, with only two more states to get through before Illinois. We made a few stops for gas and food, and also at a mall that Cas really wanted to go through for some reason. But it was fine by me, I still have time.  
Time...time until I die. Something, I think, that should motivate me more than anything. Cas will always be there for me even if I die, right?  
Well, he told me a little bit about life after death.

"Heaven," he explained, "is anything you want it to be, your fondest memory. And everyone's heaven is connected like one big puzzle, so it is possible to visit others. Hell, though... I can't tell you, because I don't know exactly what its like down there. Let's just say it's pain and agony for an eternity..."

"I'll be going to hell," I muttered.

"Well, yes."

What spooked me about how he replied was he sounded like that was a fact. Not that he agreed, but it was like a given fact I will end up there sooner or later. But I don't think I mind. I deserve the worst punishment imaginable; I have killed so many people, a few just for fun. I am no saint.

It's three in the afternoon here in Colorado, and I feel like using the bathroom, so I pull into a rest stop on the highway. Cas stays in the car as I walk up to the tiny building. It's actually one of those bigger-then-normal ones with a food court inside, since its on a major highway. There's quit a few people, so I have to wait in a line just to piss.  
When I finish, I exit the restroom and go over to a quiet corner and take a seat. I pull out my phone, which has been buzzing on and off for miles. I didn't want to check it because I knew it was most likely Bobby, and I didn't feel like talking to him. I have six new voicemails. Damn, I really should have answered. It must have been fucking important if he tried calling that many times. I'm an idiot.  
I press the first voicemail and take a listen. Then the second, third and so on.

"Son of a bitch," I curse to myself.

What Bobby was so determined to tell me was vampires; He was trying to tell me that I needed to avoid Fort Collins, which I am currently fucking in, because there's a huge vamp nest around here.  
He said that they would know if I was there and would come for me. Why, I have no idea, but I need to leave.  
I hurry back to the car and get in, flooring it on the highway.

"What's wrong?" Cas asks me with that caring voice of his.

"Vampires. I knew we shouldn't have gone this far up north," I grumble."

"Then why did you?"

"I didn't want to drive through Kansas..."

I see him nod his head, and he doesn't say another word. Up ahead I see the highway is closed for construction. Just my damn luck. I have no choice but to get onto the exit ramp and drive into a small rural comminity.  
The sky is gray with overcast, almost matching the color of the snow-topped mountians in the distance. I think we're going more uphill, because my ears start to pop.

"Look at the map and tell me a way out of here," I tell him, and he opens the map and begins to search.

As he's doing this, I slow down my speed. I look in the mirrors to see if anyone had made the same turn as me, but there is not one single motorized vechile in this eerie part of town; not even in the driveways of homes or parked on the sides of the street. 

"This is bad," I say.

"Dean, make a left up here," Cas tells me reassuringly.

I do, and there's just another long and continues road. After about five minutes there's a dead end sign and thick woods in the way.

"Of course," I mutter. "Of course."

"Sorry..." Cas winces.

I cut the engine off and get out, making my way to the trunk in the gray atmoshpere. I fumble around and pull out my necessary weapons, tucking them in my belt, hiden by my shirt, and putting a switchblade and holy water in my pocket.  
Closing the trunk, I walk over to Cas and open the passenger side door.

"I'm gonna go look around, see if there's anyone here."

"But-"

"Something about this place isn't right."

"Be careful," he says quietly.

I shut the door and before I leave give him a reassuring look. I start to walk down the road at the dead end where the dense woods are. The pine trees are huge and full and tightly packed together. Beyond them are just more trees.

"Looks like I caught me a Winchester."

I roll my eyes and turn around carefully, hand ready to grab my gun.  
She's pretty, for a vampire that is. She's got long black hair, her mouth cracked open slightly as she licks her red lips.

"Ahhh, you're the pretty one. Where's the tall one?"

"Not here," I say with a shrug.

"Now that's just too darn bad."

I hear footsteps behind me amongst the trees, _crunch crunch_ as they move through the fallen pine cones. They're surrounding me. I look beyond my friendly vamp girl to the Impala. Cas isn't inside.

"What are you lookng at?" She whips her head to the car, but quickly turns back. So Cas got out on his own and not by them. Question is where the hell he went.

"Made a wrong turn," I continue, crossing my arms. "Mind telling me a way out?"

The vampires behind me continue to advance. By the sound of it, I'd say there's about six or seven of them; I'm screwed.

"No, I won't," she says, eyebrows raised. "You're coming with us, hon."

"Nah, I really-"

Just then one of the vampires behind me places a dark hood over my head. I don't struggle, and they're not being rough. I allow them to tie my hands behind my back and take all the weapons I'm carrying away from me, throwing them to the ground.

"Here we go," I hear one of them say.

* * *

"I'm only going to ask you one more time," she says again, her face curled into a sneer, showing off her horrible teeth. "What did he tell you about the massacre?"

"Lady, my dad never talked to me about anything, I fucking told you."

With that she slaps me good across my face, making a _smack_ and leaving a red mark in its place.

"We can do this all night," she coos.

"My dad," I continue, trying to keep in how much I want to slice their heads off and watch them die with their blood splattered everywhere, "never spoke to me. He told me things like you exsist, but nothing of his job."

"I don't believe you," she states.

I'm handcuffed by the wrists to a faded brick wall, my legs dangling a few feet off the ground.  
To be honest, I've been in worse situations. I'm not the best hunter; I mean I got beat up by a demon, but I wasn't raised to become one.

"I don't think you know how valueable you really are, Dean," she explains.

But I roll my eyes. "I'm nothing like John, if that's what you're insinuating."

"You're a vessel, and you're more powerful than you think."

"I'm no demon's vessel, bitch," I snarl.

"You're just too cute!" she exlcaims. "Good thing we got you and not those dreadful demons. Who knows what they might have done to you!" 

"So... I can leave now. Right."

"Well..." she ponders. 

Another vampire, this one about as big as those two guards I killed, which seems as though happened years ago, walks up to me slowly and examines my neck and arms. I spit in his face, but he only laughs and wipes it off with his meaty hand.

"I'm hungry," he announces, whether to me or himself I don't know. 

He's met with encouraging snarls and "Let me have at 'im" from the others. I reach my leg up and with as much force as I can muster and kick him right in the balls, but he doesnt even flinch.

"Nice..." I whisper.

He promptly sucker punches me in the gut, making me lose the air in my lungs. Sputtering and gaspiing a few times, I regain my breathing and nod quickly.

"Y'know, I bet I got some good blood," I huff. "Go right ahead."

I let my head hang low over my shoulders as I think of a way out. There is one weapon they didn't confinscate from me, the switchblade I always have in tucked in my shoe, but there's no way I can get to it.  
As they move about in the dank room, my thoughts wander to Cas. Wherever he is, I need him here the most.  
He's an angel... so maybe if I, what, pray? Would praying for him even work?

 _Cas,_ I think. _I need you. I won't be mad that you left, just get here_.

I pause for a few seconds, confident that he somehow heard me. But when I still see the couple dozen vampires surrounding me, I immediately feel stupid for thinking praying to him would help.  
Glancing around, my eyes catch something sitting in the corner; a machete.  
The main vampire, the girl who caught me, saunters over to me and smiles.

"So you see it, huh?" she asks.

"Yeah." 

"We use that for the new ones....sometimes they get out of hand."

I glance over to it again, taking notice of the splotches of dried blood. Some of it even looks fresh.

"You know, it would be nice to have an attractive one around here," she giggles, running the tip of her finger down my neck. "I'd hate to see you get your life sucked out."

"Go to hell," I spit.

"Ohh, don't be that way, it'll be fun!"

Just then there's this really bright white light, like a miniature star in the room. There's no heat, but a high pitched ringing I have no idea how to describe.  
Suddenly she's down on her knees with the rest of the vampires, trying to cover their ears from the unbearable noise.  
I shut my eyes tight, not sure what's going on. Then, as soon as it came, the blinding light and deafening noise receeds.  
I look around, and all of them appear to be dead on the cold hard ground.  
Standing in the middle of them all, seeming to tower over them with great power, is Cas, still wearing my Deep Purple shirt but had put his coat back on. It looked oddly attractive.

"You...you came," I say in awe, mouth wide open. When I notice it is, I shut it fast; I looked like an idiot.

"I'll always come when you call, Dean," he replies firmly.

He raises one of his hands and ssorta flicks it at the shackles keeping me on the wall. They crack open on the spot and I land back to the floor on my feet.  
Walking over to him, I carefully step over the bodies. 

"They dead?" I ask.

"No. Dazed, perhaps"

"Good."

I swiftly grab the rusty machete in the corner and, dragging it across the ground, letting it scrape against some of the vamps, I go over to the pretty girl who fancied me so much.  
I grab her by the shirt and lift her up to my face, giving her that sneer she gave earlier.

"This is for slappin me," I growl, lifting the machete in the air and bringing it down on her neck with more force than I thought I was even capable of. With a nice clean swoosh her head comes right off, rolling away on the floor. Some of her blood splattered onto my face in tiny dots, so I tugged on the top of my short and, bringing it up to my face, smeared it off.

* * *

"Since when did you get your powers back," I insist as I turn the radio off. It's now late at night; apparently a lot of time passed since I was captured.

"There's...too much to explain to you, Dean," he tells me. "Not now."

I park the car in this small field in the country right outside of Kansas. I made sure to get as far away from Fort Collins as possible. But, I made it to Kansas. I didn't want to be here, but I'd have to face my fear sooner or later. The wheat in the field isn't too high, only high enough to reach the headlights.  
The sound of crickets and all the fireflies outside in the darkness give me a good sense of tranquillity; I sure as hell needed it.

"Why are these demons and vampires after me...," I mumble. 

Cas looks away, making sure not to look me in the eyes. I wish he was, though; his eyes calm me down.

"That's a...a good question."

"Yeah."

I pull my leather jacket over my body and snuggle into it; there's a crisp chill in the air.  
I turn to stare at Cas, and he finally looks up to me, his blue eyes filling me with contentedness.

"Thanks for saving me. Again," I laugh.

He smiles and says, "That is what I'm here for."

I glance down at his lips a for a split second, but find I stare at them longer than that. Cas catches me doing this.

"What? What is it?" he asks, touching his lips with his fingertips.

"I....nothing, forget it."

"Alright."

He then closes his eyes and rests his head against the seat. After a few minutes I hear him snoring, which is fucking adorable since he doesn't even know how to sleep.  
With that thought in my head, I fall fast asleep.


	7. Heat Of The Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I was soo turned on when I typed this.  
> It is shorter, because i want the full hardcore sex when their relationship has developed more.  
> Please enjoy! I'm still working really hard on this.  
> I'd like a beta-er, because I'm seroiusly making mistakes everywhere...  
> Btw happy bday Supernatural c:

#### \---Cas' POV---

Pretending to sleep is more difficult than I previously thought, especially when sitting in an upright position in Dean's car.  
I chance a peek over to him. He's snuggled into his jacket, sleeping away. I try to shift my body; I've been uncomfortable for hours. But as I do so, I accidentally elbow the car door loudly, causing Dean to stir.

"Sorry," I whisper with a distraught look. How does one even get to sleep in the first place!

Dean turns his body slightly to where his back is leaning up against the door. He smiles though.

"Can't sleep, huh," he says softly.

"Of course not this is absolutly-"

"Cas, you don't have to, jeez. Just relax."

I cross my arms. "I don't have time to relax."

"Aw, c'mon. I'm the one who doesn't have time to relax. Yet, here I am, sleepin like a baby."

"You obviuosly have no understanding of your reality, then."

"Ouch," he says dully. We are silent for a few more moments, letting the sounds of chirping crickets and gentle wind outside in the dark intensify around us. I glance back at him, and I catch that he's been staring at me the whole time with a deep look, like he's thinking hard about something. I smile shyly and ask him what he was pondering.

"Well," he begins softly, biting his lower lip. "I'm just thinking about how lucky I am to have you."

I look away, feeling weird. I've felt for the longest time that we shared a profound bond, so maybe he is finally starting to feel it as well.

"It's not luck, Dean. We're meant to be together," I reply, staring out of the window. Even so, I can still feel the nervous atmosphere between him and I.

"Cas..." he waivers.

I turn my head. "Yes?"

He gulps and, wiping the palms of his hands onto his thighs, leans into me very slowly and cautiously. I gulp too, since I have no idea what he's going to do.  
He keeps on leaning in, and the tips of our noses our touching very slightly. Dean then closes his eyes and places his soft lips gently around mine. I dont know what to do, so I just shut my eyes too. He then pulls back to where his forehead is on mine, and his sparkling green eyes are boring into me. My heart begins to pound furiuosly.

"I wanted to do that for a while," he breathes. "Sorry."

"No," I reply, our faces still together. "I enjoyed it."

To this he smiles and leans in once more, this time resting his left hand on the back of my neck. Once more I feel unusually pleasant and push into him a bit, wanting more.  
As he gently moves his middle finger in circles on my upper neck, which make my hairs stand on end, his lips move sweetly and effortlessly over mine. I hear him moan quietly and I feel his smile through his kisses. All of this probably means nothing; I know of Dean's various sexual relations with women, and they never end well. But, experiencing this for myself, I'm not exactly sure. He seems so gentle and passionate, caressing me and pulling me in closer with every moan. I moan a bit too, loving this sensation running through me. He reaches his hand down to my pants and begins to unbutton them; I let him. He hesitates a moment before touching me there, so I nod for conformation. Biting my lips eagerly, he slips his long slender around my lenght, twisting and pulling gently. And....ohh...it feels so amazing. I have never felt this way. Ever. How is he doing it?

"Am-am I going to fast for you?" he asks, pausing a moment. His cheeks are flushed. I'm not sure what he means by it.

"Nnnnooo," I slur, holding his hand around my length again.

He continues, more vigorous, twisting and swirling his thumb on the top, making me buck up.

"Unnnf," I groan, grabbing his shoulder tightly, shutting my eyes.

To this he slows down, but I don't want him to.

"Not yet," he breathes, letting his hand go. 

"F-fine," I reply, snapping my fingers. 

Now we are lying in the back seat, naked, with him on top of me. Ihis length is up against mine, and I wait for his next moves. He seems to like these new arrangments and extends his arm beside my head for support, grazing and nibbling down my neck, then to my collarbone. With his other hand he starts to rub himself, making me anxious for him to do the same to me again. I run my hands down his back, feeling his back muscles, which makes me feel overpowered; I shouldn't, because I'm the angel here.

"I...I love you, Cas," I hear him say through one of his groans. 

He sounds lile he means it, but he's only human. Humans always get cought up in this...heat of the moment, and they believe what they are feeling is love, maybe more. Maybe he does mean it...  
He doesn't wait for me to reply, thankfully, and goes ahead and places his hands around my waist, pulling me up. I wasn't paying attention as I was think about what he said and somehow got a condom on.

"Ready?"

"W-what?" I breathe.

He gently nudges in, and I loop my legs on his hips. He slowly goes in just a bit, then out, then again so until he's stretched me enough to go all the way in. 

"Ahhhh..." I groan, holding onto him with one of my hands.

He starts going in fast now, getting me in the right places until I feel like screaming out. I bit down on my lip hard, listening to our skin slip against each other heatedly, all slicked up.

Dean, panting, pulls out quickly and comes onto my belly. I was hard and I do the same.

"Fuck, Cas," he says, trying to catch his breath. He practically collapses ontop of me. Then we just lay there a few moments, all flushed and out of breath, our chests against one another as we breathe.

"I'm sticky," I conclude. Dean laughs.

""That'll happen," he replies, peeling himself off me. 

I sanp my fingers and all our clothes are back on, although I only put boxers and our t-shirts on.  
I sigh and yawn, actually feeling...tired. I lean my head on his shoulder and shut my eyes; he pulls me into him, wrapping his arms around me.

"Do you...really love me?" I inquire.

"Of course. I mean it. I always will," he whispers, lips gently moving against my ear. 

"I love you as well," I reply.

"Never...leave me. Please."

"Never," I repeat. 

He places a light kiss on my forhead.

"Always..." he waivers, nodding to sleep before I know it.


End file.
